Reunited, and It Feels So ... What?

By RACHEL TOOR

In the fall of 1980, multicolored leg warmers pulled over Chic
jeans, long Farrah Fawcett hair blow-dried into wings, I had
sauntered onto the campus of a fancy New England college. It could
have been any one of a number of ivy-encumbered, self-satisfied
universities; it just happened to be the one that admitted me. I
arrived to the strains of the Clash, the Ramones, and Blondie
blasting from leaded-glass windows cranked wide. I came trailing a
faint scent of Windsong, along with a top-note